A Very Brief History of Panem
by finnicko-loves-anniec
Summary: Like every nation, Panem has a history. A collection of oneshots that together describe what made Panem the nation it became.
1. Prologue

Once, in a land not so different from our own, a powerful government collapsed, leaving a reign of chaos that lasted many long years. Its people were scared, and though they clung to the remnants of the lives they had lived, slowly, they lost everything that had once defined them. Their old communities fell, and from the rubble emerged fourteen powerful city-states that came to exert influence over all of the once-great nation. But these city-states were not created equal, and eventually, two great powers developed. But power breeds greed, and these states would not be content for long.

One came as friends to the other states. They offered opportunity to their new allies, an opportunity for trade and specialization. For, they argued, from specialization comes productivity. From productivity comes wealth. From wealth comes comfort and security. In a world as unstable as their own, it was little wonder that they willingly accepted the seemingly kind offer.

The other power, though, had little use for friends. Having inherited the secrets of terrible weapons from their forefathers, this state expanded through war. One by one, the nearby city-states fell under its rule. With each conquest, the ruling state became more powerful and more greedy.

But they two powers could not expand forever. Eventually, neither could grow without infringing upon the territory of the other. And so the two powers circled each other as if gladiators in ancient arenas, each waiting eagerly for the first opportunity to strike. The people waited with bated breath for the war they all felt was coming.

And war would have come, if not for a clever man in the western power. He approached the warlike East with a novel suggestion: the two city-states could rule the continent together in peace. Neither had to die so that the other could thrive. The East agreed, and for a time the new nation of Panem prospered in peace under its two rulers. West and East ruled as crown and scepter, equal in their power and influence.

But it could not last, for peace saw no use for the East's weapons of war. Their power declined, and the West emerged as the one true Capitol. It began to treat its former ally not as an equal, but as simply another of the once-strong city-states. The East chaffed under this new arrangement, and resentment simmered. It urged the Capitol's other districts into a rebellion that they could not win. The Capitol used Thirteen's own weapons against them, and when that failed to destroy their enemy, they banished their former ally.

For seventy-five years, the East waited for an opportunity to strike back at their old rivals. When their leader watched a Girl on Fire ignite the nation, she knew their time had finally come.

.oOo.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! As mentioned in the summary, this will be a collection of oneshots from before the 75th Games - anything that would be considered 'history book worthy' is fair game. They will all be compliant with this chapter, which provides the background for the entire story. Feedback is much appreciated!


	2. A Feast

**A/N:** For Zero and because I just had to write a messed-up Thanksgiving story. Written using the Caesar's Palace prompt _opulent_. Happy holidays!

.oOo.

"Sir, there's a problem in the districts." The hands of Antonius Cord, Head of Distributions one of the most powerful men in Panem, shook as he spoke.

President Snow noted the motion wordlessly and leaned back in the high-backed chair. "And what might this problem be?" Silence stretched between the two of them, and Snow could feel a smirk tugging at his lips. He'd heard himself compared to a snake once, cold-blooded as it waited for its prey, ready at any second to sink its venomous fangs into a victim. Snow appreciated the perfect comparison, but the woman responsible for that comparison should have known better than to tempt a poisonous creature.

The other man clasped his hands together behind his back. "Our forecasters believe that the energy and water allotments for each district will no longer meet demands in five years. We must improve and expand the infrastructure."

"I'm sure you can think of another solution." He reached into a bowl of cherries and selected the plumpest, juiciest of them. Before he popped it into his mouth, Snow raised his eyebrow and looked towards the other man. "Surely I have not promoted to Head of Distributions a man that can't think of innovative solutions? I did have such high hopes for you."

His face paled as Snow bit down on the cherry. Cord gulped. "I'm sorry, sir, but my entire team has been unable to find a way to further cut energy or water usage. Most of the power in each district goes to production, and therefore usage can't be reduced without lowering our standards of living here in the Capitol. We used minimal daily rations in our forecasts on water usage. It just isn't possible to not expand, sir."

Snow studied him for an instant. "Yes, very disappointing indeed. I had such high hopes for you." He allowed the man to wait, uncomfortable, for a long moment before continuing. "Do tell me, Cord, why will the demand for water and power increase?"

"Population growth, sir." Snow watched as realization dawned on the man. "Mister President, are you suggesting…?"

"I would never go so far," he said. "But, should there be poor harvests in Nine this year resulting in shortages throughout the districts, it seems that this problem could be lessened."

Cord paled, but he nodded all the same. "Yes, that could be highly beneficial."

Snow smiled, and he knew that Cord would be able to see the blood that ran between his teeth. "It's been a pleasure as always. Now, if you could escort yourself out. I still have Thanksgiving preparations to finish. It's always so difficult to throw the perfect feast, don't you agree?" Thanksgiving, a remnant of Panem's past that went uncelebrated outside the Capitol, had always been his granddaughter's favorite holiday. It wouldn't do to disappoint young Cornelia.

Cord fumbled over his agreement and goodbyes, nearly racing from the room.

Snow reached for another cherry, thinking as he chewed the sweet fruit. Should he have the cooks prepare duck or turkey for the meal? He mulled over the question for long minutes, still unsure which Cornelia would prefer, but not wanting to ask and sacrifice the surprise. He had never expected that being a grandfather would involve so many difficult choices.


	3. Forged in Flames

District Thirteen was born of fire. Scared of their own creations, scientists had buried the weapons deep underground. Perhaps it was easier to ignore the destruction they could reap with a no more than a few lines of computer code when the weapons themselves were hidden; perhaps, those scientists and the government they had worked for had not wanted their citizens to know what they'd created. Thirteen had lost the details of its history long ago, but it retained its might.

Its culture had remained as well. Long after the president gave the order to begin construction on Fort Dellings, when told to jump, the correct answer was still 'how high?' Order commanded more value than liberty, just as it always had.

When war did come, what would someday be Thirteen barely survived a horrific bombing attack. While the rest of the country was flattened and burned, the land so poisoned that some areas could not be used for another thousand years, the marines huddled in the deepest levels of their bunkers, waiting for the maelstrom to end, worried that despite the assurances of the military's top engineers, they wouldn't survive the next few days.

They did, but when the conflict ended, little was left of the world they knew. The other survivors had enough problems of their own; they could spare little aid for the military that many believed had only made the war worse. So what little remained of Fort Dellings retreated back underground. Their base had been designed to be self-sustained for short periods of time, but the original engineers could not have imagined a situation so dire. Resources meant to last weeks were stretched over months. Every night, it seemed, less food appeared on their well-worn tin plates. When the ribs of the once-strong soldiers poked out from sallow skin, the leaders knew that something had to be done. _We still have options_, they whispered, for it went so far against their mandates to be openly discussed, even in the strictest of confidences.

That is, until the day the unthinkable became necessary. With the entire fort on the very brink of starvation, what remains of the base's high command composed a letter to be sent to all the remaining settlements. Its message was simple: give or die. Naturally, they chose to give, and in time, what would become District Thirteen again grew strong.

.oOo.

This newfound strength could not last forever. Soon, Thirteen again struggled, this time under the oppressive rule of a distant president. The long, grueling hours for little more than a few bites of bread chafed their pride, especially when they thought back to a history that was now more myth than fact, when they remembered the power they had once wielded.

The Capitol did not see the threat that Thirteen posed until it was too late. The sparks of revolution were already there, but Thirteen was the only one of the districts willing to stir the coals. They spearheaded the cause, and soon all of the districts erupted into conflict. Protests, riots, strikes, everything that the president had worked so long to suppress burst to life. White-clad Peacekeepers abandoned their posts and fled for the safety of the Capitol, certain that the districts were within days of freedom.

They could not have been more wrong, for the Capitol still had a few surprises for the rebels. Missiles flew through the air at thousands of feet per second, all aimed at one target. In Thirteen, only the soft hum of hovercraft engines warned them of what was to come. Seconds later, Thirteen was engulfed in flames.

Again, the remaining citizens hid deep inside its underground chambers. This time, they swore, they would make their enemies pay for the devastation they'd suffered. The survivors trained harder, every moment spent in anticipation of their coming revenge. The Capitol would burn; they refused to accept any other conclusion to their story.

Perhaps it was only fitting that a Girl on Fire would be their salvation.

.oOo.

President Coin knew the instant her Capitol contact mentioned Katniss Everdeen that she would be the last president of an independent Thirteen. Pressure had been building in the districts for years, and this girl, unlikely of a hero as she seemed, had provided the burst of energy needed to start a chain reaction. The map in the command center became crowded with colored pins that indicated burnt crops, overturned Peacekeeper transports, and outright riots. She'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

The girl, though, would be difficult to control. She was still afraid; her performance on her Victory Tour proved that much. Snow had frightened her into silence.

Coin had learned with the death of her husband and daughter that fear required having something to lose. When she saw the little blond girl and her mother, her mind was set. There would almost certainly be survivors, and they could rebuild the population that Thirteen lost in the plague that had claimed her family. Her voice did not shake as she gave the order. If Miss Everdeen was as smart as Heavensbee seemed to think, she'd realize someday that her loss had only made her stronger.

She watched, unfeeling, as flames blossomed on her live video feed. People struggled in the streets, and eventually a handsome dark-haired boy – no, man, but just barely – led them towards the gates. Good. She'd worried they wouldn't have the survivors they needed. A death toll meant nothing if there was nobody left to remember their faces.

The pain she saw in the eyes of each and every one of the survivors was just what she needed. That anger, that hurt, that betrayal was everything her propaganda minister could hope for and more. The other districts could not refuse to join with her after hearing the accounts of the cruelty in Twelve. She leaned far back in her chair and allowed herself a smile. Proselytization by fire. _Perfect_.

.oOo.

**A/N:** Written for the monthly oneshot challenge on Caesar's Palace using the prompt 'la lumiere.' I hope you're enjoying these stories so far! I'd love to know what you think of them!


End file.
